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Losing October
In my nightmares there is metal everywhere. The little one is hungry, two-dimensional I’m not sure if he’s real or a creation of my imagination and the wires the image projected flat onto the glass — The eyes are still the same. When he was broken, once I carried him and had him cast. I…
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Altar
Let’s make a little altar here from the things that we collected while we walked. Let’s make a little altar from the broken sticks, the colored leaves, the tiny stones that pressed between our palms like everything. Let’s make a little altar from the love notes and the bits of songs the promises and tears…
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Periwinkle Blue at 42
This is the age when I’m supposed to embrace myself, to wrap my loving arms around my ego and my thighs and to denounce the false ideals forced upon me by plastic fashion dolls and runway models built like I used to be, flat-assed, long-legged, stick limbs and a marked lack of cleavage, false women…
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Domestic(ate).
Don’t leave that there for me to find. I’ll never see it, hiding among the dirty dishes and the piles of laundry dumped out and waiting to be folded (worn dumped washed dried dumped repeat) and the half-empty ketchup bottle on the counter with the coffee filters the Pine-Sol stench and the blue toilet water…
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Dregs
If you don’t believe I’m an optimist, you’ve never seen me at the tail end of winter waiting for the vagrants to drag their weary bones across the lawn, leaving trails of dust and grooves from worn-down heels gaping mouths turned toward the clouds praying for rain while the birds drop hulls from angry beaks…
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2016
Funny all the cracks that made your surface interesting, once upon a time have filled in now with dirt and grime and no amount of scrubbing can restore them Leonard Cohen left us blissful mirror-gazing at each other, dancing long and slow, until the end until the end and we were cavernous, and gaunt like…
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Vultures
circling, waiting for the chance to pluck the eyes out of the children
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Skeletons
It used to be we kept them locked up tight, bound and gagged, jaw bones chained to the floor and filthy rags taped over the holes where the eyes once waited, watching. Now we buy them brand new Pick them out of catalogs, customized with all the latest diagnoses, all the fancy damage upgrades Shabby…
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Dog Days
Maybe it’s the heat, the dog days smuggling water in through your pores and into your lungs, drowning you inside your skin forcing out your breath in labored syllables It could be the dark, creeping in an inch at a time until one day, driving home you take your eyes off of the road and…
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That Was a Long Time Ago
We were all disembodied captured behind glass eyes, red-rimmed and leaking fluids in our creased, cupped palms sliding through our fingers to the floor where they bathed in retribution. We were all glass-eyed, blinded, captured by our wrists, bound with the long and strangling cords of their self-loathing, we were hunched over ovens, burning flesh…
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April Fox 